"Mike Resnick - Hunting The Snark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"You took the gazelles," I noted. "Mr. Desmond has first shot."

"I don't want it," said Desmond nervously.

"All right," I said. "Mrs. Desmond, you have first shot."

"I'd never kill anything so beautiful," she replied.

"No," muttered Desmond so softly that she couldn't hear him. "You'd just throw
them into jail."

"Then it's Mr. Marx's shot," I said. "I'd suggest you take the fellow on the
far right. He doesn't have the longest horns, but he's got the best-matched
set. Let's get a little closer." I turned to the others as Marx took his rifle
from his gunbearer and loaded it. "You stay here."

I signaled to Chajinka to take a circuitous approach. Marx, displaying the
proper crouching walk, followed him, and I brought up the rear. (A hunter
learns early on _never_ to get between a client and the game. Either that, or
he keeps a prosthetic ear company in business.)

When we'd gotten to within thirty yards, I decided we were close enough and
nodded to Marx. He slowly raised his rifle and took aim. I could tell he was
going for a heart shot rather than take the chance of ruining the head. It was
a good strategy, always assuming that the heart was where he thought it was.
Marx took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and began squeezing the trigger.

And just as he did so, a brilliantly-colored avian flew past, shrieking wildly.
The horned buck jumped, startled, just as Marx's rifle exploded. The rest of
the herd bolted in all directions at the sound of the shot, and before Marx
could get off a second shot the buck bellowed in pain, spun around, and vanished
into the nearby bush.

"Come on!" said Marx excitedly, jumping up and running after the buck. "I know
I hit him! He won't get far!"

I grabbed him as he hurtled past. "You're not going anywhere, Mr. Marx!"

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"There's a large dangerous wounded animal in the bush," I said. "I can't let
you go in after it."

"I'm as good a shot as you are!" he snapped. "It was just a fluke that that
goddamned bird startled it. You know that!"

"Look," I said. "I'm not thrilled going into heavy bush after a wounded animal
that's carrying a pair of five-foot swords on its head, but that's what I get
paid to do. I can't look for him and keep an eye on you as well."